


Report to Command

by Hinn_Raven



Series: RVB Angst War [17]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Memory Alteration, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/pseuds/Hinn_Raven
Summary: What happens when the Reds and Blues realize that something isn't right in Blood Gulch?Sometimes, there's a reset button.





	Report to Command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/gifts).



> Goodluckdetective asked me to do the Reds and Blues getting regular mindwipes to reinforce the Red vs Blue dichotomy. And I was more than happy to provide!
> 
> Warnings: Abuse, body horror, memory fuckery, Aiden Price being the actual worse, possibly some ableism.

Sarge was the first one to have to go report to Command.

It was an unsurprising development—the man had a long and distinguished career as a Helljumper. He’d seen _real_ war, and it was possibly inevitable that some part of him would remember that he had signed up to kill aliens, not men so young they were barely adults just because they wore blue armor.

VIC ordered him to report to Command for a personal briefing.

“This will be more complicated than we realized,” Aiden Price said, staring at man. He had been strapped to a chair and was screaming as the equipment did its job, resetting his memory. “I believe we will need to create another system in Blood Gulch Canyon itself.”

“Do whatever you need to do, Counsellor,” the Director said, not looking up from his work. The Simulation Troopers did not concern him.

In the distance, Sarge kept screaming.

* * *

Tucker had reported to command six whole times before the rookie arrived. Captain Flowers was always nice about it—he just called Tucker into his office, and Tucker would show up again a few hours later, no longer asking weird questions about aliens and the Reds.

After Flowers died, it took longer. Church didn’t worry. He _didn’t_.

Church had never had to report to Command.

* * *

 

Simmons put things together from Sarge’s off-handed remarks. “Grif?” He asked one day. “Weren’t we… supposed to fight aliens?”

But the bases were monitored closely, and the call came for Simmons to report to Command.

Grif stared after him as he disappeared. He had carefully not responded to Simmons’ question, pretending to be asleep.

Now, his heart pounded in his ears and he stared after Simmons, starting a timer in the corner of his helmet.

Grif remembered aliens. He remembered the massacre. He remembered sleeping through it and waking up surrounded by corpses, and the fact that he had forgotten, however briefly, was terrifying.

He didn’t know what was happening, but he did know, when Simmons came back, he seemed a little less sure of himself, a little stranger. He also didn’t bring up aliens again.

Dexter Grif had not been raised, like Simmons, to obey authority. He had not even made an active decision to, like the others, who had volunteered instead of being drafted.

Grif kept his mouth tightly shut, and didn’t report to Command, because he never voiced any of his doubts, not even when his younger sister showed up wearing the armor for the wrong army.

* * *

 

Donut reported to Command after Tex nearly killed him with a grenade. They carefully pawed over his memories of Agent Texas, whispering to each other nervously.

“Should we tell the Director?”

“Not yet,” said Aiden Price. He contracted Agent Wyoming and Gamma instead. They could handle this quietly.

* * *

 

“I need to report to Command,” Caboose said cheerfully one morning.

“Why?” Tex asked.

Caboose shrugged. “The man on the radio said I had to.”

Tex frowned.

She followed Caboose into the tunnels below Blue Base and watched what happened.

Later, with Caboose’s screams ringing in her ears, she would go to Church.

“Have you ever reported to Command?”

“Who me? Nah. Tucker’s gone a few times though.”

Tex was only here to protect Church. She didn’t care about these dumb soldiers.

She grabbed Tucker’s elbow. “Next time they tell you to report, don’t go.”

He laughed at her. “Want to punish me yourself Tex?” She could imagine the smirk under his helmet.

Tex knew how this worked better than most people—she’d had her memories ripped out of her enough times at Freelancer to know it couldn’t be done without side effects.

As she watched them, she could see how they were manifesting. Sarge’s delusions. Simmons’ anxiety. Caboose’s memory problems. She was less sure with Tucker, but there was something there, she was sure of it. Maybe that was why they were all so stupid, reckless, and ridiculous.

Freelancer was breaking them, and for _what_?

That night Tex went down to VIC and ripped out fistfuls of wires and smashed screens. She found the chairs for Red and Blue bases and took them apart piece by piece. She shoved viruses she’d collected from Tucker’s porn collection into the software and grabbed all the parts. Later, she’d use them to make Andy the Bomb. But right now, all she cared about was that no one would touch their memories again.

But of course, there was a problem with that logic.

She’d need to stay to make sure it stayed that way.

* * *

 

Aiden Price wasn’t sure how it was that the Simulation Troopers from Blood Gulch had gone so long without memory resets to allow them to have progressed to… _this_.

There was an alien child and a sword, friendships, and _far_ too much knowledge about the Freelancer Program, contained in their memories.

The priority was, of course, Lavernius Tucker. It was of utter importance that they wipe him completely—remove the alien child from his memories so they could begin experimentation, reassign him somewhere far away from Sanghelli or their technology.

But there was one problem.

“No,” the woman said. She was from the diplomatic corps, and she had paperwork. “You’re not wiping him. I _need_ him for the diplomatic corps.”

“Private Lavernius Tucker was assigned to the Simulation Trooper program,” Price said calmly.

“Yeah, and you’re doing nothing with him, so the brass says I get him now.”

“On whose authority?” Price couldn’t help the edge in his voice. “The Chairman?”

She snorted. “I don’t give a shit about Freelancer and Charon’s dick measuring contests. I don’t care about your Director or Hargrove’s bullshit, I don’t care about AI or profits or super soldiers. I just want to _end this war_. And Lavernius Tucker is the key to that.” She shoved her datapad against his chest. “If I walk through that door and find him strapped to one of your torture chairs, I will come for your ass so hard you won’t know what hit you.”

Luckily, Price hadn’t gotten that far. Lavernius Tucker was simply sitting in a chair behind a mirrored glass window.

Price left them to their diplomacy and went to visit Alpha instead.

“You _fuck_!”

They’d removed Alpha from his robotic body—it was a pity that Private Jimmy had not lasted as long as they’d intended. But Price had quickly found a replacement, and Alpha would be in it soon enough.

The problem was, at the moment, Alpha had managed to remember who he was and what was happening. So he was refusing to hand over his files about the incidents at Blood Gulch.

“Hello Alpha,” Price said, sitting down across from the computer screen where Alpha was currently contained. He was low on power, too much to form a proper sprite. Instead, he had taken the form of a small ball of light, irritably bouncing across the screen. “It’s good to see you again.”

“ _Fuck off_!”

“Now Alpha,” Price said calmly. “Maybe you should reconsider cooperating.” He paused. “If you hand over your files for our records, I’d be willing to let one of your friends go. Perhaps… Private Tucker? I understand he’s just had a son.”

The light freezes. “You would?”

“Of course. He has potentially a great deal of value to programs beyond the Simulation Troopers. It would be such a pity to have to remove his memories of his son.”

Alpha is in a closed system. He can’t tell that Tucker will be walking away no matter what he does.

“Fine.”

Price smiles.

He copies the files, and then deletes them from Alpha’s memory banks.

“They’re all ready for redeployment, sir.”

“How long until Alpha is ready?” The Director is pacing back and forth, reminiscent in many ways of Alpha’s own digital movements.

“I believe you were correct—the Simulation Troopers have started the process. By my estimations, a seclusion period of at least six months will be necessary before we can begin harvesting more fragments.”

“Find somewhere then. The Chairman is… showing an interest. Hide him well.”

“Of course, sir. I know just the place.”

Price had made one slight miscalculation.

He was so focused on the war between the Reds and Blues, that he had discarded the need to erase friendships between the same teams.

Caboose would remember Church and his location.

This would lead to the end of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open for angst war prompts on Tumblr! I'm secretlystephaniebrown over there, come hit me up!


End file.
